


BatIM One-Shot Dump 2, Electric Boogaloo

by TheBlueishTrashCan



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dysphoria, Fusion, M/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Character, Wild West AU, chappy 6 is just straight fluff, god I'm still bad at this, heehee they poly, i'm not tagging the portal fandom because it's just one chapter, it's light angst with a happy ending, justice is served though, many alternate universes actually, mentions of abuse in chapter 8, more than one but we'll get there, portal au in chapter 9, slight blood in chapter 7, what other tags do I need
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-01-25 19:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21361468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlueishTrashCan/pseuds/TheBlueishTrashCan
Summary: I have another dump. But it's severely out or date when considering my writing and how far I've come with it. Plus I have a lot of new AUs I'm going to work with! Therefore, I have created a new work! I take request as well as prompts, but can't guarantee I'll do them!
Relationships: Jack Fain/Sammy Lawrence, Joey Drew & Bertrum Piedmont, Joey Drew/Henry Stein, Norman Polk/Sammy Lawrence/OC, Sammy Lawrence/Norman Polk, Wally Franks/Sammy Lawrence
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	1. Fusion - Sammy/Wally

**Author's Note:**

> This particular fic was written for an event on tumblr called The Ink Demonth. I've already posted it there, so if the first fic here seems familiar, that's why. Day 12 was fusion, so that's what this is!

The first time it happened, it was a total mistake. An accident. A surprise, even.

Sammy was letting Wally listen in on a new number he was working on while the janitor took a short break from his nightly rounds. Wally lost himself in the smooth tune, eyes closed, chin resting on the top of the mop handle he was holding. In that position, he didn’t see Sammy reach to put a hand on his arm, he only briefly felt a hand on him. Then a warm feeling overtook him, the mop fell from his hold and onto the floor. He felt like his whole body had pins and needles, tingly, sharp, but in this case, pleasant. 

The feeling only lasted for a second before he opened eyes that he felt weren’t quite his. He was standing, clearly, on legs that didn’t belong to him. He began to frantically look around, then down at his hands. As he did so, he became aware of… someone else. Not someone in the room, watching him, but rather the sensation of someone wrapped around him, almost like a blanket. Something else was there, too, something like feeling bigger. Not a bigger version of himself, just a larger feeling to his existence, like being something new.

The shock of what happened only hit him when in addition to his hands- or what he assumed to be his hands- there was a second set. Four hands, twenty fingers, which he watched wiggle. His view was shifted up to the room again, finding that the only person in it was him. 

“Sammy?” Asked a voice that came from the mouth he possessed, but not in his voice.

“Wally…?” The same voice came from the same mouth, more hesitantly. 

“What… is this?” The set of words came not from Wally’s input, in that new voice.

Then, just as quickly as it had happened, it undid itself. There was a sensation of the air being pulled from Wally’s chest rapidly, and a sort of light-headedness that reminded him of standing up too fast. He stumbled backwards, nearly slipping on his mop.

Sammy was in no better state in front of him, falling back against his desk and nearly toppling his radio. He regained his balance only to stare wide-eyed at Wally. Both frozen.

There was an unspoken question in the silence between them, though neither wanted to answer. Wally rushed out of the room, his keys jingling at his hip. 

That was three days ago.

The sight and the feeling of it all replays in Wally’s mind on the constant now. He wants to speak with Sammy about it, try and figure out what happened, exactly, but the music director always seems to have an excuse for him. However, now it’s late. Too late, and Sammy is still in his office. His light is on, there’s the faint sound of radio static drifting through the open door. 

Wally makes his way to the entrance of the room without being noticed, knocking on the doorframe a few times to draw Sammy’s attention. He can’t make an excuse this time.

“Hey.” Wally starts.

Sammy turns in his chair, eyebrows raised. “...Hey.”

“Are we gonna talk about it?” The janitor voices.

“Do we have to?” Sammy turns away from him again.

“I’d like to. Y’know, that wadn’t just… a thing that happens. People don’ just… suddenly have four hands!”

“Personally, I’d like to blame Joey. Anything… disfiguring like that was obviously because he’s been meddling with things he shouldn’t be.”

Wally moves from the doorframe to stand next to Sammy, leaning on his desk with one hand. “But didn’ it feel… I dunno, good? In a… weird way, didn’ it feel nice?”

“I don’t have to answer that.” Sammy won’t meet his eyes.

“C’mon. Please, for once, don’ be an ass an’ work with me here. Sammy, tha’ was weird as Hell.”

Sammy finally set his pen down, an annoyed look settling on his face as he shifts his eyes towards Wally. “Yes. It was weird. It was… confusing. It was like I didn’t exist anymore and-”

“An’ you wanna try it again, don’ you?” Wally challenges, cutting him off.

Sammy seems shocked, clears his throat. Takes a moment to answer. “Yes.”

“Then let’s do it. C’mon, what’d you do before? You were playin’ music an’ I was sittin’ here-” Almost excited, Wally pulls the extra chair to the spot it had been in that night. He sits down, waiting for Sammy to take part. “What’d you do?”

“All I did was…” He carefully sets a hand on top of Wally’s gloved arm, only to have nothing happen. Both men look seem confused.

“Is it ‘cause I was expectin’ it?”

“No, that… doesn’t seem right.” Sammy bites his lip, removing his hand. 

“Well, we were jus’... relaxin’. You seem kinda tense, maybe that’s gotta do with it?”

“Hm. You may be on to something there, but honestly, this is no time for me to be relaxed.”

“You’ve gotta try, jus’ for a few minutes. Here, maybe we can-” He doesn’t finish his statement, standing back up and taking one of Sammy’s hands. His own free one lands hesitantly on his hip. “Ya like dancin’, right? I’m not too good at it, but maybe that’ll help.”

Sammy can’t help but stare at their raised, entangled fingers. “I… This isn’t a good idea.”

“An’ why’s that?” Wally raises an eyebrow at him.

“Whatever we did… that was magic. It was magic of some kind, and that’s clearly something we shouldn’t be trying to mess with! I don’t even like when Joey does it, what if one of us gets hurt or we can’t undo it?”

“None of tha’s gonna matter if we can’t even do it again. This is somethin’ we can learn to do, and do it right! How’s that not interestin’ to you? Can’ we jus’ give it a shot?”

Sammy let out a sigh through his nose, placing his hand on Wally’s shoulder. “Fine, but only because I know how insistent you can be…”

Wally couldn’t hold back his grin, starting to gently sway back and forth. “I’m glad ya know by now I’m not gonna leave ya alone!”

It’s only after a long ten or so minutes that Sammy’s hold becomes less stiff, as well as his movements. His expression shifts from an annoyed scowl to more of a tired gaze, despite still refusing to look Wally in the eyes. Instead, he watches their feet, which are hardly moving anyway. 

“It’s not going to work, Wally.” He says, bored.

“Jus’ give it s’more time, you’re still kinda tense.”

“We’ve given it enough time. Let’s just get back to work so we can go home, okay?” He sighs, letting go of the janitor. “Good night.”

Dismayed, Wally lets the music director slip from his hold. “Oh… aight. Uh, g’night, Sammy. Good luck with your, uh… music.” He hesitates, then makes his way out of the room, closing Sammy’s door behind him.


	2. Flashbacks - Sammy/Norman (hinted), Norman/Original Character

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the aftermath of being trapped in the studio, from my own personal AU I've built over the years. Norman Polk, who survived becoming the Projectionist and even returned home to his wife, decided to bring Sammy home with him, seeing as the man became a clueless amnesiac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for PTSD, Sammy's got it real bad.

Sammy couldn't help but be shocked by the sight of the bathroom in front of him. It's perfectly clean, almost everything in it tinged a pale blue-green. Some vague memory stirs in him, his legs and hands seeming to move on their own. The water comes on, then he pulls up a small plug on the faucet. The shower head comes on moments later, causing him to jump back. He stares for a while, probably far too long, before he starts to strip down, setting his clothes on the edge of the sink. He still isn't used to his new- or old, rather- body yet, but steps into the tub anyway. The frigid water hits his legs first, a sensation that makes him jump and his skin protest with goosebumps. He carefully leans through the water, turning the handle until warmth begins to hit his body instead. 

He stands up fully and sighs, letting the liquid run over him for a while. His wildly curly hair begins to flatten out, nearly reaching his shoulders and flopping into his eyes. With one hand, he shoves it out of his face, leaning back enough to be out of the spray and opening his eyes. 

The minute he does, he can see the shower head facing him, but then it doesn't look like a shower head. No, a memory flickers in him, bursting through the surface of his mind. He's staring down the nozzle of the Ink Machine, shouting for his Lord's blessing, for his Lord's love, asking that if he gives up his mortal flesh, if he will be accepted and forgiven, for he's given his Lord a chance at power, strength- Then the ink hits him full force, knocking him over, filling his nose, his mouth, covering his body all over, but he's trapped against the floorboards, pressed down, crushed, the chug of the ink and the machine running filling his ears-

After hearing a thud in from the bathroom near the front of the house, Norman is put a little on edge. He knows Sammy is in there… Getting up from his place on the couch, he makes his way to the closed door, banging on it twice. 

“Sammy? You okay in there?” He yells, but doesn't get a response. He bangs on the door again, a little harder. “Sammy! You better answer me!” He hits the door two more times. “Sammy!”

It's then that Diana, his wife, shuffles out of their bedroom, confused. Her reading glasses are perched on her nose, making her look over the frames at him while leaning on the doorway. “What is goin’ on out here?”

“Somethin’ fell, sounded pretty heavy. He's not answerin’.” 

“Well what're ya waitin’ for? Go in an’ check on ‘im!” Diana exclaims, gesturing at the door.

Knowing it would be pointless to argue with her, Norman shakes his head. “Sammy! I'm comin’ in! If there's anythin’ you don’t want me seein’, cover up!” Having given his warning, he throws the bathroom open, bending down to get through the frame. The shower curtain is still closed, the water running on full. Through the sound of it, Norman can hear his heavy, uneven breathing and soft whimpers. 

“Sammy?” He asks gently, pulling the curtain back. The former music director sits in the tub, his knees pulled up to his chest. His hands are held out in front of his face, which is tilted up towards the shower head. His hair is totally soaked, of course, but his eyes are wide, only blinking in rapid bursts. The whites of them have turned black, what looks to be ink streaking down his face.

“Hey. Sammy. C'mon.” Norman tries, but to no avail. He sighs through his nose, going to the other end of the tub to shut off the water. Then he pulls the curtain all the way back. “C'mon, ya fool…” He mutters, reaching out for the former musician. 

As arms are slipped under his own and haul him to his feet, Sammy doesn't struggle, but he barely stands on his own, either. Norman manages to get a towel around his body before he falls again. He braces an arm across his back and behind his knees, sweeping him off of his feet.

“Shoot, Sammy, you're lighter than I thought.” Norman comments, but gets no response. Sammy's eyes are still wide as he steps back into the hallway. 

Diana still leans in the frame to their bedroom. “What happened? He okay?” She questions. 

Norman shakes his head again. “He's havin’ some kinda flashback. Somethin’ freaked him out pretty bad. What should I do with him? He's soppin’ wet still.” 

“Well don’ put ‘im on the couch, it'll ruin the cushions!” She responds.

Norman shrugs slightly, moving across the hall to their guest room to set the man on the bed. Once he's been situated, Norman sits on the edge of the bed next to him.

It's about then that Sammy shakes his head, looking around. Ink still mingles with the water dripping from his hair. He stares Norman in the face, his expression slowly becoming more confused. But Norman knows he isn't really confused. He just wants to cover something up. 

“What got ya?” The taller man questions. 

“The machine…” Sammy whispers back. 

In his mind, Norman catches scraps of a memory, one forcibly torn apart. Machinery, ink and regret. That's all he gets, but he understands. He pats Sammy's bare knee, then stands. “I'll get ya somethin’ to finish dryin’ off with. You can take a shower later.” He doesn't wait for a response, just ducks out of the room and swings the door mostly closed behind him. 

Left alone in the room for those few moments, Sammy makes something clear to himself that he knows he'll have to accept; he will never be free of the ink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accept prompts and requests, in general and for ships! I'm a big multi-shipper, so things could be fair game for me! No guarantee I'll do it, but I appreciate suggestions!


	3. Fantasy - Henry/Joey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (An older piece, but one I haven't posted) Henry is trans, at least in this particular chapter, and experiences some pretty serious bouts of gender dysphoria. One of his two partners, Joseph Drew, is more than willing to do his best to help, even if he doesn't fully understand what's going one.  
...Additionally, this is based on an AU I created with one of my partners, in which the timelines for out personal AUs crossed and his Joey ended up in my universe through dark magic. Henry fell in love with him, as well as falling back in love with his own Joey, who goes by Eugene, his middle name. Complicated, I know, but I love the Au and may as well share!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for dysphoria and emotional breakdowns

After everything that happened as a whole, Henry thought it would be best for him and his partners to move into his place. It’s cleaner, and newer and it may not be as cheap as Gene’s old place, but it’s a little bigger, too. It’s better for all three of them by far. The three of them being Henry himself, Joseph Drew and Eugene Drew. The latter two had no relation to each other, of course, and Eugene was also technically Joseph Drew, but Henry couldn’t quite explain the magic that brought them all together.

Presently, Henry stands in front of the bathroom mirror after a particularly stressful day at his newest job, staring into the deep brown eyes of a man with short hair, a square, stubble-covered jaw and a strong nose. He isn’t wearing a shirt, his perfectly smooth, pale skin perfectly visible in the harsh white light. His pecks are nicely toned, but not too strong, same as his arms. His stomach is flat, but he doesn’t have abs. They lead down to thin hips, making his body seem more like it’s a triangular shape. Really, he’s an ideal man; Handsome, but still somewhat soft. His expression, however, is sad, disappointed, even. His thin lips are pulled into a slight frown.

Slowly, as his eyes fill with tears, the reflection melts away, revealing what’s really there. Instead of a muscular man with a strong jaw and thick stubble, there’s a rounded face almost with a second chin, no stubble to be seen. His hair is short, but poorly cut, done in a rush. His chest isn’t toned at all, but rather made into parts that he shouldn’t have at all. His soft, round stomach and wide hips don’t exactly help the appearance of his chest, and neither do the tiny stretch marks coating his skin. Rather than just looking sad, tears drip down his face in silence. Thicker, more rounded lips press into a grimace. He takes a shaky breath and sighs it out. It would be worse if it weren’t for the boxers he managed to find in his size covering the rest.

Everything about Henry is wrong.

His hands grip the edge of the counter, where he forces them to stay despite the fact that he wants to just dig his nails into his chest, rip new marks into his skin. Stiffly, he manages to shuffle away from himself, seating himself against the empty wall next to the door. He tangles his hand on his hair, resting the elbow on the edge of the bathtub. His other hand clamps over his mouth, holding in sobs that shake him all over. 

_ Everything about him is wrong.  _

His hand quickly becomes soaked with his tears, but he tries to ignore it. He closes his eyes, feeling the burn in them, shuddering quietly.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been tucked into himself that way, but his back hurts, not that he notices much. So do his legs and hips, now that he thinks of it. The small, worn out brown carpet under him doesn’t offer much of a cushion.

He hasn’t yet stopped crying when someone knocks on the door softly. He doesn’t want to answer. A voice floats through anyway, deep, holding worry. 

“Henry?” Asks Joseph. “Hey, are you alright? You’ve been in there for a while.”

“Fine.” Henry answers, forcing his voice to be as steady as he can. “I’m fine, Joseph.” 

“Are you sure…? You’re not sick, are you?” He presses.

“I’m not sick, I’m fine.” He wasn’t lying, exactly…

“Okay… just yell if you need me.” Joseph offers, then moves away from the door. 

It’s only a few minutes later that he drags himself up off of the ground, his hips and knees protesting as he does with a solid pop from each joint. He sets his hand on the doorknob, forgetting his shirt, but freezes. On the other side of the door, somewhere in the apartment, is a tall, handsome man that cares far too much about him. He knows Joseph accepts him fully, but… Surely, there’s no way Joseph can look at him and really think of a  _ man _ .

** _Everything about Henry is wrong. _ **

Not even the men living with him can see him properly, it’s too hard. He knows it. He can’t change it. He’ll live, he supposes, but barely.

His hand still on the doorknob, he falls to his knees, hugging himself with one arm. The tears gather again, spilling over as he squeezes his eyes shut.

Footsteps come back to the door faster than expected. “Henry?! Are you alright? What happened?” 

“Don’t come in!” Henry’s voice wavers.

“You saying that makes me think I should come in! What’s going on?”

“Please don’t come in!” Henry begs, scrambling to lock the door before backing away from it. 

The lock seems to be broken, though, seeing as how Joseph doesn’t struggle with getting through it at all. His form fills the doorway, then he’s coming towards Henry. 

Said man covers his face with his hands, shaking his head. “Joey, please…” He whimpers.

The use of the nickname seems to freeze the larger man for a moment, but only a moment. He kneels down in front of Henry, gently pulling his hands away from his face again. “Calm down… it’s alright, come on…” He slips one of his hands under Henry’s chin, making eye contact. 

Henry’s eyes are puffy, turning a little pink at the edges from his tears. He bites his lip hard. 

“Let’s get you up off the floor.” Joseph stands fully again, offering his hands for Henry to take. He silently refuses, slowly standing on his own and wrapping his arms tightly around his chest. It doesn’t stop Joseph from putting a hand on his shoulder, guiding him out of the bathroom and starting down the hall. “Do you want to lay down?” He gently asks.

Henry nods, his bare feet shuffling across the carpeted floor. 

“Alright then, come on.” 

Henry simply throws himself down on top of the cold sheets, laying on his side. He doesn’t have to say anything before Joseph’s joined him, pressed close into his back.

“What happened?” He asks softly.

“Nothing. Just overthinking.” Henry answers.

“About what?” Joseph carefully traces a small heart on his shoulder, then drops his arm around the smaller man.

“Nothing.” Henry sighs. He won’t understand, not fully. And he won’t want to be bothered by  _ this _ again.

“Are you sure it was nothing?” His voice drops even lower. 

Henry gives a small nod to confirm.

“Alright then.” He’s quiet for a long moment. “When Gene gets home, should I tell him about it?”

“No.” The answer comes a lot more sharply than Henry intends. He lets his voice soften. “Don’t.”

Joseph traces another heart on his stomach, nuzzling as close as he can. Henry knows he smells of machine oil and cigarette smoke, he hasn’t showered yet. “...You know you can tell me anything. If you want to, I’m happy to listen, mon chéri.”

Despite everything, the nickname still makes Henry’s face warm, pulling a small smile back onto his lips. “I know. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Another heart is traced onto his stomach. “I love you, Henry.”

Henry’s tired eyes close, trying to forget and relax. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget that I accept prompts and requests for just about anything, including ships! No guarantees I'll do anything, but I appreciate it!


	4. Responsibilities - [No ship obvious]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Old West AU my boyfriend and I created initially as a joke, until I spawned this. Henry is a journalist that moved to a small town in Texas from New York City to chase after a rumor. He was offered housing by a kind rancher, Joseph Drew, and quickly makes acquaintance with the local bar tending drunk, Eugene (my Joey). Eugene owns a saloon, which a young boy named Sammy Lawrence helps him run. In this particular piece, they've been robbed, and are seeking Joseph's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for some pretty serious injury and blood, Sammy got shot :/

Having to maneuver the limp form of Sammy Lawrence off of his horse without the boy falling to the ground was a far harder task than Eugene expected it to be. His own shaking and his blurred vision didn’t help the situation, either, but Sammy made it safely into his arms nonetheless. He turned towards the little farmhouse at the end of a dirt path not far from him with wide eyes. He knew moving quickly was not to the benefit of the bleeding blond, though panic had long overtaken his mind. His feet were carrying him towards the house without his command, his voice acting as well. “Help! Joseph, help, he’s been shot! He’s been shot!” He shouted, over and over, he tried to get the attention of the person- perhaps people- inside.

He was maybe five long steps away from the house when Joseph appeared in the front doorway, at first looking confused, then shocked when Eugene got closer. “My god, get him inside! What happened?!”

Eugene slowed enough to get Sammy into the house without bashing his head into the wall, right behind the farmer as he quickly cleared the table of what looked like had been the setup from lunch. “I- There was- we got robbed! We got robbed, they had a gun, Sam must’ve froze or faltered or maybe they just didn’t like him too much but they got the cash and he got hurt and-” Eugene’s words were slurred, running into each other.

Joseph carefully took Sammy from him once the table was clear, laying him out flat. His teary bright blue eyes were still wide, searching the room until they met Joseph’s. Trembling, bloody hands found both of his, the grip obviously incredibly strong. It was at that moment that Henry came shuffling down the hall, concern evident on his face. “What’s going on?” He questioned, only to have Joseph slip from Sammy’s hold and point to him. He jumped in response.

“Go get a bucket of fresh water and rags. You-” He turned to point to Eugene, only for a moment, "Bandages are in the washroom, a sewing kit is under my bed in the black box.” When neither of them moved for a long second, his voice rose. “Go! Now! This kid’s dying!” As they sprang into action, he quickly undid Sammy’s ruined shirt and threw it open, examining the open wound just below the center of his chest. 

“Am I going to die…?” A wavering voice asked. “I don’t want to die, please…” Sammy reached for Joseph’s hand again, suddenly sounding incredibly child-like.

Joseph carefully pressed them down by his sides. “Quiet now, I won’t let you die, kid. Don’t sweat it, you’ll be okay.” He offered a reassuring smile he knew didn't quite reach his eyes.

Henry returned before Eugene did, a half-full metal bucket landing on the chair next to Joseph. “I hope that’s enough, here’s the rags-”

“It’ll be fine.” Joseph hardly even looked at him as he snatched the a smaller rag out of his hand, pressing it to Sammy’s wound. In response, Sammy gasped and Henry whined, already starting to move off. 

“Here! Here, I found it, I found it. Is this it?” The bartender then came stumbling back down the hall, a black tin box in his hands. He set it down on the table along with two thinning rolls of bandages that nearly slipped to the floor.

"That's it. Was there an exit wound?" Joseph asked, beginning to clean around the open hole itself. 

"A what?"

"Is there a hole in his back too?"

"N-no, no, not that I saw-"

"Fuckin' hell. That's gonna make this a lot harder." Joseph shook his head before opening the sewing kit. From it, he pulled a spool of wide dark thread, a needle that matched the size- which he set between his lips- and a pair of thin pliers about half the length of his forearm. "Get him to bite on that and grab his hand. This is gonna hurt him more than I'd like it to." He gestured to one of the other rags Henry had brought in. 

"M-me? Are you sure you want me here for this?" Eugene sputtered.

"Quit feelin' sorry and just do it!" Joseph growled.

Eugene wordlessly complied then, folding the fabric as neatly as possible and managing to get it between Sammy's teeth. The action earning him a fearful, confused look, but no protest. He moved to the other side of the table, quickly taking one of Sammy's hands in both of his own. "What are you doing…?"

"What'a you think I'm doing? There's a bullet in his chest that needs to get taken out!" Joseph took a deep breath and let it out, steadying himself, then reached for the pliers. He braced his free hand on Sammy's chest not far from the wound, ever to slowly pushed the tool in. 

Had it not been for the rag in his mouth, Sammy would have been screaming. His whole body jerked, making an attempt to get away from what was causing him more pain. His grip on Eugene became increasingly tight, his free hand nearly taking a swing at Joseph.

"Hey, hey now! Take it easy, hold still!" He tried to command, knowing full well Sammy wasn't listening. "Gene, come grab his other hand, hold both above his head." As Gene got a hold of his other arm, Joseph turned to make eye contact with the boy. "Sam, I need you to stay still for me. You've been moved around a lot, I need to get this bullet out of you and close you up, got it?"

Tears still poured down his face, but he nodded. 

"Okay, good. I'm sorry it hurts so bad." He quickly set back to work, Sammy muffled by the wad of fabric in his mouth. “It’ll stop soon, you can rest soon.”

* * *

By the time Sammy had been stitched up, the bullet removed from his chest and the blood cleaned from around the injury, all three involved were visibly tired. More than anyone, Sammy’s eyes were red from his tears and dark marks were starting to form under them. Eugene had finally let him go and when he fell limp, Joseph carefully folded his hands on his stomach. 

“Gene.” He began wiping his hands off with a damp rag. “There’s pillows in the spare bedroom. Grab him one, I don’t want to try and move him yet.” All Eugene did was nod, making his way down the hall. Joseph ran a hand down his face, then braced both his hands on the table next to Sammy. His gaze fell to the boy’s face, taking in the sweat-matted curly hair, the wrinkles in his forehead from how his eyebrows were still pulled together in pain. He’d long since run out of tears.

He looked far too young to have to deal with that kind of trauma.

Eugene came back with a pillow in a burnt orange, white and brown case, handing it off silently. Joseph shifted to the end or the table and guided Sammy to lift his head, slipping the pillow under him. He looked ever so slightly less uncomfortable after that.

He’d hardly noticed Henry following just behind Gene, his hands clasped together in front of him. “How is he…?” He whispered, looking Sammy over.

“Stable, at least. That could still change, I’ll be keeping my eye on him.” 

“If you needed to get some rest, I could watch him for you.” Henry offered, looking up to Joseph’s face.

The farmer shook his head. “You’ve got no idea what to watch for. If something goes wrong, I want to be here.” 

“Right. I get that. You should sit down though, hun.” Henry carefully pulled out a chair, moving the bucket of murky red water out of the way. 

“Thanks.” He mumbled, dropping into the seat.

Eugene sighed, one hand going through his hair. He turned towards the open front door, making his way across the room and onto the porch. He was mindful not to let the screen slam behind him.

Henry leaned down to kiss Joseph on the cheek, then followed the bartender outside. “He’s stable, that’s good news.” He voiced, trying to sound cheery.

Eugene had already taken a seat on the bench next to the door, his head in his hands. “Yeah.”

“He’ll live. He’ll have a scar, I’m sure, but he’ll live.” He added, plopping down next to him. 

“It’s my fault this even happened in the first place.” Eugene sounded on the brink of tears.

“How so? Weren’t you robbed?”

“Yeah, we got robbed, but it’s my fault he got hurt! I was passed out in the back- drunk, of course, ‘cause when ain’t I drunk?!- and next thing I know, I’m woke up, he’s on the ground bleeding behind the bar, place is trashed, money’s all gone- If I’d just been sober or even awake, he wouldn’t have got hurt!” His voice rose, becoming more distressed.

Henry placed a hand on his back, gently rubbing it. “Hey, come on… it was an accident… who’s to say you wouldn’t have been shot, too?” 

“Better me than him! He’s barely eighteen, for crying out loud! I promised his mama I’d take care of him and I go and nearly get him killed! He might’ve yelled for me and I couldn’t hear him! What if he dies?!” By that point, his tears had spilled over.

“Joey won’t let him die, you know that…” Henry’s arm wrapped around him, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“But do you, city boy? You ever seen anyone get shot before?” He snapped back. Henry’s silence answered him. “I fucked up. It’s as simple as that and if he lives, I need to make it right by him. I got to make sure this doesn’t happen again, you know? I need him to know I’m really gonna keep him safe this time.” He sighed, his head tilted up towards the rafters, though his eyes were closed. “No more drinks. No more… hiding out in the back. He’s supposed to be helping me, not covering for me. Saloon’s got my name on it, I got to live up to my own name.” Both fell silent for a long minute. Slowly, Eugene let his head fall onto Henry’s shoulder with a sigh. “You really think Sammy’s gonna be okay?”

“Of course I do. Joey and I are going to take good care of him. I promise.” His hand moved up from his back and into his hair, gently running over it.

“I’m tired, Henry.” He sighed once more.

“Then rest your eyes for a bit. I’m here, and Joey’s in there. It’s okay to rest now.”

“I think I will.”

“Do you want to come back inside?” Henry offered, his voice becoming quieter.

“No… No, if we could just stay like this for a bit… that’d be real nice.”

“Alright then. That’s fine by me.”

“Thank you, Henry.”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that I take requests and prompts for just about anything! No guarantees, but I'd appreciate it!


	5. Newbies - Norman/Sammy/OC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new couple has moved into town- or is starting to- and Sammy is curious about them. Well, as a bartender, he gets the perfect opportunity to meet the young man and his wife, which he's very eager about! What he isn't quite eager about, however, is the wife actively flirting with him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Wild West AU, because I've been talking about it again! Norman's wife is such a flirt when her filter disappears, but luckily for Sammy, Norman knows when it's time to stop her... Mostly. No warnings on this one!

At twenty years old, when Sammy Lawrence had caught word of a couple moving into town and building their own house, he was skeptical of them. New folks rarely moved into town, let alone so suddenly. If course, he heard it from one of the regulars of Eugene's saloon, who heard it from a friend, who heard it from the banker, who really shouldn't have been telling anyone at all. Well, the banker hadn't been in yet that evening, so he couldn't rightly ask her, and seeing as that was the only bar in the little town, at least one half of the couple had to come in eventually.

That "eventually" turned out to be just past five in the evening three days after Sammy had first heard about the new folks. The front door was propped open at the time, several patrons seated around the main room. They were slowly trickling in for the night, and Sammy was positioned behind the bar rearranging display bottles while Eugene stood at the opposite end, chatting with an employee of the general store from down the road. Neither were paying particular attention to the door until someone spoke from it, causing Sammy to turn from his work. 

"Well, this sure looks like the place to be." A man spoke, not particularly loudly, as he stepped through the door. He was tall- about the same height as Eugene’s partner Joseph, if Sammy had to guess- dressed in dusty overalls with a bandanna tied loosely around his neck. His dark frizzy hair had bits of something stuck in it, but that wasn’t Sammy’s business; He looked like a working man, after all.

Just behind the working man was a woman slightly shorter than he was, dressed a similar way and covered in the same amount of dust. Her hair was pulled as flat against her head as she could manage, telling Sammy she had it tied back. “Sure looks like it, huh?” She replied.

They both approached the bar and took a stool, not far from where Sammy was working. The blond offered a smile. “What can I get you folks?

The man returned his expression. “Whatever’s cheap. Two of ‘em.”

“Of course.” He set to work, having two mugs ready quickly. With a quick glance around, he noted that no one else was in need of him yet, then leaned on the counter in front of the new pair. “Can’t say I’ve seen y’all around before. Just move in?” 

He nodded, resting his elbows on the bar. “Sure did, me an’ the wife-” he indicated the woman he’d come in with. “-just got a plot’a land outside’a town.”

“Buildin’ our own place!” His wife exclaimed. 

Right, they were the new couple. They seemed friendly enough. “Quite the task, that. It’s nice to meet you folks, I’m Sammy.” He offered his hand across the counter.

“Pleasure’s mine, name’s Norman.” Norman continued to smile, gripping his hand and giving it an enthusiastic shake.

When he let go, his wife took his hand instead, her grip just as strong but not as enthusiastic. “Diana. You ain’t Eugene?” She laughed slightly, referring to the sign outside.

Sammy withdrew his hand, making himself at least look busy behind the counter. “No, Eugene’s over there.” With a gesture, he indicated Eugene, still behind the till. “I’m his son, is all. Been working here for almost five years now.”

Norman hummed, nodding as he glanced to Eugene. “Everybody here’s so friendly, what’s up with that?” When he turned to Diana, Sammy tuned them out a little more. 

“Dunno. Just that kinda town, I guess.” Diana answered, and they went quiet to drink. 

Sammy moved away from them after a few moments, really doing work then.

* * *

By the end of the night, Norman and Diana had soundly made friends with many of the bar's regulars. At least, he had to guess based on how many drinks were being exchanged that night. He could hardly keep track of who bought what by the time things slowed down, but he trusted everyone to pay their dues, and so did Jean.

As far as he could tell, Diana had been the one to drink most of what had been served to the couple, Norman staying sober enough to get her home, presumably. Or, to wherever they were staying since they didn't have a house yet. 

He was washing out glasses when her voice rang from from the other end of the bar, waving at him. "Hey, Blondie! C'mere for a sec, c'mon!" She was slurring, but Norman looked amused. Raising a brow, he slid over.

"Need something else?" He asked.

"Yeah, I need your cute ass to come with us, what about that?" She leaned closer to him, a grin on her face.

Sammy couldn't hide the surprise look on his face. "I- what? I'm sorry?" Not far from him, Jean burst out laughing. 

"See, lookit that face. Pretty little thing like you ever gone home with somebody?" She added.

"W… No, no I haven't. I-I live upstairs, and I'm not supposed to go home with patrons." Sammy responded. 

"Not even once? A damn shame, really!” By then, she was reaching across the counter, gently grabbing his chin. “I mean, really! Handsome face like that’s not gettin’ appreciated?” She scoffed, and Norman reached out to pull his wife’s hand back.

“Aight, aight, settle down. Cute as he is, looks like the poor guy’s gonna explode!” He chuckled, winking at Sammy.

"I…" Sammy cleared his throat, glancing at Jean. The older man was watching, not quite smiling, but still managing to look friendly. 

"Well whaddbout if we went upstairs with you, sweetheart? Sure would be a lot easier than sneakin' ya into our hotel…" Diana's voice lowered, resting her chin on her folded hands.

"Dee, maybe another night we can talk him into it, we haven't been in town that long…" Norman patted her arm softly. 

"Fine, fine…" She finally resigned, sitting back a little. "And now he's gonna be thinkin' about it." She grinned again, her attention returning to Sammy. "Aren't cha, doll face?" 

All Sammy could muster was a strangled noise, then he felt Eugene’s hand on his shoulder. “Sammy, why don’t you go ahead upstairs for the night? I can lock up for you.” He offered calmly. 

“A-alright, thanks.” Sammy squeaked out, but didn’t move for a long moment. He was still looking at Diana, he realized, before he set down the rag he was holding and hurried for the door behind the bar. He went through and closed it behind him, taking the stairs just beyond two at a time. At the top, he stopped. Not once in the years he’d been working at that bar had he been hit on by a patron, let alone a married woman in front of her husband, who hadn’t tried to stop her at all. 

The worst part was, she had been right; He  _ would  _ be thinking about what they’d done, most likely for the next few hours.


	6. Music Makers - Sammy/Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy reflects on his relationship with Jack, something he doesn't do a whole lot, and realizes something important about it. And, he finds, he's very okay with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some soft Sammy x Jack requested by GreatComet1812! I hope they see it, I'm posting it in my new collection rather than the old one. If they do see it, I hope this is what you were looking for!

Without really giving it much thought at all, Sammy Lawrence had allowed himself to get very close to his work partner, Jack Fain. Yes, of course he knew it was good to have a healthy relationship with those you worked closely with, but so far, Jack had been different. The lyricist was hired without his input not too long into the beginning of his career at Joey Drew Studios, and he wasn’t happy about that. It was his department after all, he should have at least some say in who works with him there. That annoyance quickly faded as the two fell into perfect harmony, both literally and not. Sammy was admittedly impressed with the skills of the lyricist, but he thought that said more about his own skills than Jack’s.

Presently, it’s almost a year since Jack was hired. In that time, Sammy sometimes recalls, he’s gained someone he easily calls his best friend. They have fun together, often singing the silly songs Jack comes up with to each other or even together as a sort of excuse for a duet. Jack sometimes makes up his own too, either about lunch, or Sammy’s spilled inkwell, or even the music director’s grumpy face. Anything, really, to make him smile. Sammy would never tell anyone save for Jack himself, but he finds it endearing. On top of that is the fact that they spend so much time together that they’ve started talking over each other. Not interrupting, no, just saying the same words on top of each other. That one, Sammy isn’t sure he likes as much. What he does like is how funny Jack finds it, the lyricist always cracking a bright smile when it happens. Working so closely, they pick up each other’s habits, and sometimes that isn’t such a good thing. Jack seems to enjoy putting his hands on Sammy’s shoulders while looking over papers, which already has Sammy doing the same back, and sometimes even to other people like Henry, and once, almost to Joey himself. 

And, as he thinks about it more and more, Jack has been turning those small touches into leaning against the director. Putting an arm around him, resting his chin on his shoulder. Alright, the touches are a little more than friendly. He doesn’t mind that. He enjoys Jack’s company, in and out of work. Besides his soft little touches and silly purposeless songs, Jack clearly has a passion for his craft, which makes it all the more easy to get things done in a timely manner.

Sometimes.

Sometimes things get done on time, other times the pair in charge of the department are too busy with each other to finalize projects by the end of the night. Unfinished projects means overtime, though they know the studio can’t afford it at the moment, and Jack convinced him that that’s fine for now. So far, Joey has been kind enough to fill the gaps in wages where and when he can. While annoying, Sammy takes it, as Jack suggests. It’s a starting business, after all, don’t be so hard on them, Jack says. Fine, Sammy says back, mostly, but in his head, it’s not.

Something pokes the music director’s cheek. He shakes his head of blond curls briefly. His eyes flicker over to Jack’s freckled face. There’s a grin. Ah, right. They’re still in the break room. On one of the couches. Jack’s legs are stretched across his lap, the smaller man leaning back against the arm. Henry’s nursing a cup of coffee at a nearby table, Allison’s with him watching a cup of tea steep. She’s been running through songs all night, he remembers now. He hadn’t even noticed he stopped paying attention.

“Somethin’ on your mind, starling?” Jack questions cheerily.

Sammy shakes his head. “That song is bothering me.” He lies.

Jack tilts his head. He’s not wearing his hat, Sammy realizes, but his frizzy hair has been flattened on the top by it. “Which one, the new theme?”

“Yes, that one. It isn’t right.” Sammy sighs, fingers tapping on Jack’s leg.

“It’ll get there, don’t worry. We’re on a break right now anyway, don’t think too hard, okay?” The lyricist soothes.

Sammy sighs louder, leaning his head back. “Right. I’ll try not to, thank you.”

There’s a silence in the room, but then Allison speaks up softly. “So… I hate to pry, but… how long have you two been dating…?”

At that, Sammy’s head snaps back up and he shares a somewhat surprised look with Jack. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. Dating. That’s what their relationship is, he realizes suddenly. All the kind touches, the affection, even Jack’s little nicknames. It’s romance. And Sammy finds that he’s perfectly content with that.

Jack turns to Allison, swinging his legs to hang over the edge of the couch. His feet barely reach the floor from there. “Hard to say, actually…” Jack’s realized it, too, and Sammy feels a shot of relief go through him. “It’s not something we’ve talked about it just sort of-”

“-happened.” Sammy finishes his partner’s sentence. “I’m not sure when.” He glances up at the voice actress. She’s nodding. Henry, next to her and watching them both, has a soft look on his face.

“Well that’s awful sweet.” The animator chimes in.

“You think so?” Jack asks. The others may not hear it, but he’s nervous, Sammy knows.

Henry nods. “It is! I mean, I wouldn’t have expected you to swing that way, Sammy, but things just happen, I suppose.”

“I didn’t think Sammy swung at all.” Allison muses back, giggling.

That has Jack and Henry laughing too, and Sammy’s even pushing a small smile.

Jack pokes his cheek again, shifting so set his head in Sammy’s lap instead of his legs. “What’re you so happy about up there.”

Sammy rolls his eyes, a hand resting on Jack’s head. “Oh, nothing… Just some small realizations I’ve had, is all.”

“You figure out that song?” Jack’s eyes fall closed. 

“Mmm… Maybe so. We’ll have to see when we go back to work.” Sammy answers softly.

“If. I dunno about when I’m ready to call it a night!” He stretches comically, faking a yawn. 

That has Henry and Allison laughing again, and Sammy smiles. “I wish…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and by the way, writing requests are open and art commissions are available! Feel free to comment for details on anything.


	7. Nosebleed - Norman/Sammy/OC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy knows he still has his issues post-studio. Norman and his wife Diana know it too. They still treat him well enough and while this does confuse Sammy as much as his lapses in memory, he does appreciate their kindness. (TW for a nosebleed, but it's not technically blood, as Sammy bleeds ink)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Anon! Thank you so, so much for requesting to see more of these three, I love them so much and I'm so overjoyed that you do too! I hope you see this and enjoy!

Sammy’s progress is slow. Steady, admittedly, but slow. And he hates that. Despite having a stable roof over his head and a somewhat sound mind in his head, he slips. Constantly, more constantly than he’ll admit. He’s curled up on his bed, legs pulled up close to his body in an attempt to be smaller. A book sits open in front of him, it’s some fantasy novel that Diana- the lovely woman she is- gave to him. He isn’t that far into it, though. The words blend together on the page too much, but he doesn’t want to tell her that. He has his own space, kind people who take care of him, and yet here he is. His mind runs through what-if’s. Memories he can still cling to. Things he did while he wasn’t quite himself. Those memories don’t cut as deep anymore. He just wants to put everything in order. He wants to know what happened to him, who he was before everything that happened. Norman didn’t know him well enough to tell him that. Henry didn’t either, not that he saw Henry often anymore. Not since Joey moved back in with him. He knows he had close friends, he’s sure of it, but can’t for the life of him remember who. 

Does Norman know? He might, that man seems to know a lot of thing that Sammy didn’t even consider important to be remembered. He sighs, resting his forehead on his knees. Then they start to ache. He stretches his legs out, wide enough for the book to be between his ankles. Then he flops back on the pillows and closes his eyes. Just for good measure, he throws his arms over them too. Now his head hurts. That, too, is something he hates; the headaches that follow the thinking, and the memories. It’s as if it strains him like a physical action, trying to recall himself and his own actions. He winces at the painful pressure toward the front of his head, just behind his eyes. 

Then the pressure spreads down to his nose, and  _ that _ has him sitting up in an instant. On trembling legs, he hops off the bed and makes a dash for the bathroom across the hall from his room. He bends over the sink as black liquid starts to pour from his nose, splattering into the white porcelain. It’s running down his throat too, making him gag, and cough. Footsteps come up the hallway and he winces again. 

“Sam, you okay?” Diana asks, appearing in the doorway. “Oh, honey…”

He looks at her sidelong. He doesn’t dare say anything, and standing up would make such a mess. 

“Here, hold on…” She disappears again, and Sammy hopes she won’t come back to see this. 

There’s still so much ink, and he’s starting to have trouble standing. His legs aren’t treating him kindly. However, she does return, stepping into the little room and placing a gentle hand on his back. A towel passes into his line of sight and presses against his nose, his own hand automatically coming up to hold it. It has darker stains on it, but he knows it’s clean. He’s used it for exactly this situation before. 

“Stand up, honey, get your head back… it’s okay, I’ve got you…” Diana soothes. Her hand hasn’t left his back.

Sammy carefully stands full, raising his head. As he does, he catches himself and Diana in the mirror. The corners of his eyes are turning black, and Diana’s wearing a soft, dark red cardigan. She’s smiling softly at him. He can’t think of why. He decides not to think about that too hard, instead tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. 

“There we go, c’mon sweetpea, I’ll get you back in your room. Or do you wanna sit on the couch? Norm’s at the store, he won’t be home for a while if you wanted to.” She puts both her hands on his shoulders, gently guiding him out the door. All he can do is point down the hall, away from his room. “Livin’ room? You got it, let’s go…” She isn’t pushing him, Sammy notes, and he wonders if it’s because she can see his legs shaking under him now. 

And somehow, he does make it to the couch without collapsing, which he thinks is a plus. He sets himself down heavily, head resting back against the cushions. 

“Let’s see how bad it is…” Diana tugs at the towel in his hand and he pulls it away from his face. She nods approvingly. “Looks like no more’s comin’ out. You okay, honey?”

“Yes, I believe so…” Sammy answers shakily. 

“What happened?” She takes a seat next to him, just on the edge of the couch. 

“I had a migraine coming on, I believe. They cause that.” He answers, glancing at her.

“I know, hon, I meant what were you thinkin’ about so hard?” After a moment, she adds, “You don’t gotta tell me.”

At that, Sammy shakes his head. He doesn’t want to tell her about it, actually. “I’ll be alright. I would like my book, though…”

“I gotcha. Lemme clean up that mess in there, then I’ll grab it for you and clean up the mess out here.” She pats his thigh lightly, and stands. For whatever reason, her fingers thread into his black-and-blond hair, then she leans in to kiss him on the head. It’s brief and light, but Sammy nods and watches her go, her long skirt swishing around her ankles as she does. He’s baffled to say the least. It’s not worth questioning right now.

He leans back again, eyes closing, hands in his lap, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. Water runs, a door opens. After a moment, the washer starts rumbling. Then the doorknob at the other side of the room turns. Sammy looks up and Norman ducks in. He has a few full plastic bags in his hand, a slightly too short black jacket on and similarly-sized jeans. He smiles at Sammy, then frowns. Sammy tilts his head as he watches the man set his bags down and close the door. 

“Shoot, Sam, what happened?” Norman asks, already on his way over.

Sammy shrugs. “Migraine.”

“Damn…” Norman reaches out, grabbing his chin in one rough hand. “I’ll clean ya up, hang tight.” He too steps away, retrieves his bags and disappears into the kitchen.

“That you, hon?” Diana calls from the front bathroom.

“Yea! ‘M home, I got stuff for dinner!” Norman answers as he comes back in. He has a paper towel in his hand and seats himself next to Sammy. “Aight, now c’mere, you.” He says more softly, reaching for Sammy’s face again. He starts to take the damp towel over the man’s nose and lips, being as gentle as he can while removing the ink. “You’re stressin’ again.” Norman says quietly.

“I am not.” Sammy replies.

“Y’are. Y’can’t lie to me, you know that by now.” Norman sighs. “It’s okay. You’re doin’ great, you know that?” He takes his thumb over Sammy’s lips softly, peering into his eyes. “Y’are. I don’t want ya to think otherwise. I know you will, but…” He trails off.

Sammy leans into the touch, sighing himself. “Thank you. That does mean a lot to me.”

It’s then that Diana returns, pausing to watch them for a moment. “D’aww, lookit you two… I take it you’re doin’ better now, blondie?” She laughs to herself, taking a seat on the other side of her husband. As she does, she sets his book down on the coffee table not far away. 

Sammy decides it can wait, and can’t help but smile. “Yes, I am, thank you.” He mumbles. Yes. This is better.


	8. Deception - Joey & Bertrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of an AU in which things.... aren't exactly going Joey's way for a few reasons. One major one, unfortunately... is Henry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Joey and Henry are MUCH different from the ones I normally work with, as one of the boyfriends and I were working on a new AU. This Joey, we've nicknamed Cinnamon. TW for heavy abuse, and mentions of injuries. It ain't pretty, chief.

Joey Drew was not one for serious matters. He had a natural draw to the fun, light side of his animation studio, to the playful side of the park he had commissioned Bertrum to build for him. His ideas were deliberately childish which was just fine, for the purpose of cartoons or amusement parks. However, it was when that silliness bled into more business-centered affairs that it became a problem, and also started to bother Bertrum greatly. Nothing bothered Joey Drew. No budget was too small to bring his ideas to life, no material too costly to get his hands on, no dream too big. The attitude itself was exactly what Bertrum liked to see in people, but the execution left him stumped, and forced to halt his work until he was paid.

Another matter Drew was not fantastic with; Paying those he owed on time, or even when asked. He always said he'd simply "forgotten to send the check", but the frantic way he acted after that seemed to say otherwise. Joey Drew's ship was sinking under him and he was either none the wiser, or too content with letting it to care. Neither was a good option.

Bertrum truly did his best not to personally hold it against the man, though, as frustrating as it was. At first he had, of course, he was an employee not being paid regularly and still asked to do the impossible. He blamed Drew for being so forgetful, or for being too stingy, as checks were often short of the proper amount. At first, he thought Drew had a grudge against him personally. Bertrum knew he was quite abrasive when it came to his work, and Drew's attitude was setting him off. He had a right to have a grudge, but failed to see he was making things worse, Bertrum assumed. 

He assumed very, very wrong. What tipped him off that Joey knew exactly how bad things were was the meeting he showed up to conduct in tears. Full, silent tears dripped off his face as he ran through the plans for the upcoming month, in front of Bertrum and several others who seemed to be very important to his operation. All of them were clearly wildly uncomfortable because of it, but Joey was pretending it wasn't even happening to him. He smiled, as usual, and spoke with as much flare and gusto as he normally did.

Bertrum wondered if the deep purple bruise peeking out from under his collar had anything to do with the crying. He didn't get the chance to ask, as soon as Joey finished, he scurried out and to his office.

Two weeks after that, a similar event took place, but Joey was alone in his office. The door was wide open, so Bertrum walked in without thinking. Joey had his head in his hands, his body shaking. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing yellowing bruises on both his wrists. 

As Bertrum entered the room, Joey's head snapped up, a terrified, tearful stare meeting his face. He saw Joey try to force a smile, but it failed. 

"I'm sorry the check bounced, please… I can write a new one, just wait a couple days…" Joey mumbled upon recognizing the other man.

"I haven't deposited your check yet. I'll wait." Bertrum responded, shocked by the quiet tone of his voice. 

"Then why are you here…?" Joey sat back stiffly, pulling his sleeves down. 

A good question. Bertrum had come into his office fully set on chewing him out for his check being short a hundred dollars. "To talk."

"I'd prefer not to talk now, can this perhaps wait?" He pressed.

"No." Bertrum answered quickly, striding to take a seat across from him. "No, this bizarre behavior has gone on enough." 

"Bertie, what are you talking about?" His head tilted. There was a different bruise on his neck than in the previous encounter.

"The tears, Drew. The tears. That isn't like you to cry, let alone openly."

"I think you should go, this can wait." Joey snapped back. He swiped at his cheeks, then his eyes. 

"Drew…" Bertrum leaned forward dangerously. "This is highly unprofessional and I would like to know the cause."

"Leave." Joey insisted, though he only sounded more timid.

Bertrum sighed through his nose and stood, going to the door.

He closed it. Then he turned to Joey.

Joey stared, wide-eyed. Bertrum came toward him again, and he leaped to his feet. His chair rolled back with a violent scrape against the wood floor and Joey instantly pushed himself back against the wall, fists clenched at his sides.

The action startled Bertrum enough to make him jump. "Mister Drew?"

"I swear, I'll pay. I'll pay! I-I don't have cash, I'm not allowed to! Please, you just have to wait a couple of days, I'll have the money in the bank by then, I'm sure…" Joey blubbered.

Bertrum stepped closer, starting to come around the side of the desk. "I said I would wait, pull yourself together! What has gotten into you, Mister Drew?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry!" Joey burst out much louder than he had been before, flinching away.

The designer only stepped closer, a few feet away from his employer. "Joey, what in the world are you so afraid of?!" He received no response, instead only a small whine. "Honestly, Drew, this is ridiculous. What's going on?" Thinking better if his tone, Bertrum's voice softened. Again, no answer, but Joey was shaking. "Joey." He got next to him then and reached out, gently grabbing his arm.

"I don't have the money right now, Henry will move it once I explain why I need it." Joey breathed, tense in his hold.

"Henry… the animator? Why would he be approving your transactions for a business account? Unless I'm mistaken on who he is." 

"There's no mistake. He just… likes to make sure… I'm on track. I'm saying too much. Please, will you leave…? He could walk in at any minute, I should've pulled myself together before…"

"Why would your animator, the man who works for you, be making sure you're on track? On track for what, anyhow?"

"Please let go of me…" Joey whimpered, fearful gaze turning to Bertrum again.

"Joey…" His voice became even softer. "Are you alright?"

"Yes! Perfect, why wouldn't I be?" He answered quickly, almost cheerily. His expression hadn't changed and he hadn't moved.

“I don’t believe you.” Still not letting go of Joey’s arm, he used his free hand to pull up his sleeve and expose one of the bruises he’d seen earlier. Up close, Bertrum was able to make it out as the shape for a hand, all five fingers clearly defined. “Who did this to you?”

“Did- did what? Oh, that? Oh, I slipped and fell down some stairs, is all.” The response came back automatically, as though rehearsed. 

“Stairs left hand prints on your arms?” He raised a brow and watched Joey flinch.

“I ran out of concealer…” Joey hardly dared to breathe, his body seizing up as he started to pull in on himself.

“Joey, did Henry do this to you?”

“What? No, no, no! Henry- Henry would never, he loves me, he-” Joey’s voice betrayed him almost instantly. He fell to his knees and Bertrum let go of his arm to allow him to fall. His words slipped into sobs, or at least Bertrum had to assume they were sobs by the way he started to shake.

Bertrum slowly knelt next to him, reaching a hand out to rest on his back. “Joey-”

The designer had hardly gotten his name out when Joey yelped, pulling away from him. “D-don’t! I’m sorry!” He cried, his eyes unfocused. He wasn’t talking to Bertrum anymore.

With a sigh, Bertrum wrapped both arms around the shorter man, pulling him close and squeezing tightly, but not enough to hurt him. “Easy now…”

Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, Joey seemed to steady himself, though all he did was wrap his own arms around Bertrum’s from underneath. He was still shaking- no, trembling- when he finally spoke.

“Henry hits me sometimes. To… keep me in line, you know? Like he’s supposed to.”

Bertrum’s eyebrows shot up. “Like what?”

Joey hesitated. “Like he’s supposed to…? Because… I misbehave sometimes, and I make a lot of mistakes.”

“That isn’t right.”

“You’re not… gay… You wouldn’t understand.”

“All due respect, Mister Drew, yes I would. And it sounds as though you’ve been lied to.”

“What…? No, Henry wouldn’t lie… he just wants what’s best for me, and I’m just not good enough yet. He says I’m better than I was.” Joey’s tone holds a sickening level of pride.

“Someone who loves you properly isn’t going to hit you for making mistakes, let alone beat you into submission. That isn’t what a relationship is.”

“I think you’re wrong, Mister Piedmont. You just don’t understand, I was a mess before Henry started to set me right.”

“Joey. Your partner should not be treating you with violence as a way of correction. Someone who loves you is not going to look at you and think you need to be changed to fit their desires. Someone who loves you is going to show you affection, and support. Real love.” Bertrum countered somewhat gruffly

"Henry still supports me! He even kisses me sometimes."

"Sometimes… Like when?"

"Like… just this morning, I was putting on the concealer, and he came in and made sure I was covering up well, and I was so he gave me a kiss." Joey explained, sounding less and less sure of himself.

"So you're saying… he gave you affection as a reward for covering up his abuse?"

"It's… it's not abuse, he's just taking care of me…"

"No, Joey. No. He's hurting you, and he will pay for it, someday in the near future." Bertrum insisted sharply. 

"You can't tell him I told!" Joey looked up, eyes wide with fear once again. They were still red from the tears. "If he knows I told, he'll… oh, god, what would he do to me…? And if… if he gets in trouble, I'll have nowhere to go, I'm not supposed to be inside when Henry's not home…"

"Someone here will take you in, yes? You have friends here?" 

Joey nodded slowly. "I'm not supposed to, but I do still…"

No sooner had he said so than the door across the room flew open, Henry's sharp voice cutting through the space. "Joey, what did I tell you about closing this door?! Where the fuck are you?!" He hadn't seen them huddled behind the desk, it seemed. 

Bertrum stood, despite Joey attempting to cling to his arms. "And what's it to you, Mister Stein?" He growled, already stepping around the desk.

"Bertrum! Oh, what a surprise! What are you doing here?" In an instant, Henry's voice had switched from venom to honey.

"I very well could ask you the same." He stepped up to the animator. He had a foot on him, easily, and if he had to guess, may have been twice his weight. 

"Oh, I was just looking for Joey! I had a few questions about him about the date." Henry chimed, waving a dismissive hand.

From the corner of his eye, Bertrum saw Joey pop up from behind his desk. He looked on the verge of tears once again. "I-I'm here." He whimpered.

"Oh, I know you're here, honey, where else would you be? Now, Bertrum, if you could just-" Henry's words were pinched off by a choking sound, Bertrum's hand locking around his throat. 

"You're nothing but scum, do you know that, sir? Dirt beneath my heel is cleaner than you, and far more tolerable. I've never liked you, Mister Stein. You were nasty to me from the beginning, and now you've given me plenty of reason to throw you out like the trash you are." He looked over his shoulder to Joey, who stood with his hands over his mouth. "You will find somewhere to sleep tonight. The next time this man leaves the studio, it will be in handcuffs." No one got time to respond as Bertrum manhandled Henry out of the room and away from the man he'd hurt. 

Bertrum aimed to make good on his words and he aimed to do it that day.


	9. The Part Where He Kills You - [None]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is that part.  
Anyway! Portal au! Sometimes you just hyperfixate and mash two interests together like a madman and sometimes something pops out and it's fun. This au features Henry as Chell, Susie as GLaDOS, my Joey (Eugene) as Doug Rattman, and my boyfriend's Joey as Wheatly. In our version, Eugene (Doug) is alive, and teams up with Henry (Chell) to escape together. However, along the way, things don't go according to plan.  
This piece cuts in mid fight with Joey (Wheatly) and finishes out at the endgame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for some minor injuries, though nothing is described in detail.

"He's tearing this place apart! We need to do something!" Susie's robotic voice screeched at Henry from the end of his portal gun. She sounded like she was in a tin can, and for good reason; she was. Joey had put her in an empty can of beans, of course, when he tore her out of the system. Just like he was tearing the system down now, but with her, he'd at least been careful. Not now. Now, he was raging.

_ I can't! _ Henry thought, frantically looking around himself, as though looking for ideas. 

"Henry! Gah-" Eugene yelled, struggling against the robotic claw that Joey held him in. "Henry, I have a-"

"An idea? A little idea now, is it? Oh you're just full of those, aren't ya, rat man?!" Joey's voice boomed around the chamber, making the scientist flinch. "So full of 'em, you started shoving 'em into me, isn't that right?! But only the stupid ones, because that's all I am to you!" Joey laughed, squeezing down on the man. Something within the facility rumbled, growing louder and louder. Panels came flying off- maybe through- the walls, and Henry only narrowly dodged being crushed by one. One slid away from the floor, revealing a terminal-

"That's it!" Susie yelled above the noise. "A core transfer! Get me in, get me in!" If she had hands, Henry was sure she'd be clapping.

He nodded once, pushing off his toes toward the terminal. Joey didn't have time to react by the time he spotted the little man, Susie was already being plugged in and-

Something locked around his ankle, sending Henry sprawling on his stomach on the floor. His jaws snapped together painfully hard as his chin hit, his tank top riding up as he was dragged backward fast. 

"Oh no you don't!" Joey growled. "Don't you push me out, do you know what I was before I got hold of this place?! I was more useless than you!" He bellowed, starting to lift Henry into the air. As he did, more panels fell, this time from the ceiling. Rocks and dirt came tumbling with it, flooding the whole place with pale, natural light 

A mechanical alarm suddenly sounded through the space, and Joey stopped. It sounded a second time.

"What?! What'd you just say, you little freak of engineering?!" Joey's attention was suddenly off of him. Henry was dropped, and quickly rolled onto his back. Joey was yelling at Eugene's robot, which was slumped in the far corner. Joey craned toward it. "I AM NOT A MORON!" 

"Henry!" Eugene whisper-yelled, grabbing Henry's attention. He'd been dropped too, clutching his side and coughing, across the room from Henry. "Look!" He pointed up.

And there it was. Full, and bright, and right overhead. The moon. Clear sky, dotted with stars. Through the jagged hole in the ceiling, it was absolutely beautiful. 

But that wasn't the first thing on Henry's mind. _ Moon rock. The whole place is moon rock. I wonder if… _There was no time for what-if. Eugene knew it, that's why he said it. Henry brought the portal gun up and fired at his feet. Then, switching portals, aimed straight up and-

"WAIT, NO-!" Joey protested.

"DO IT!" Eugene shouted at the same time.

Henry fired.

For a moment, everything froze. Silence deafened them all. 

Then came the roar of air rushing past and through everything. Dirt, rock and metal alike went flying through the portal. Henry, too, was pulled to it at an alarming speed. He hardly had time to react, to scramble with his free hand for something, anything he could grab onto, and in the end, it was a thin metal coil. He had no time to decide if it was attached to anything, the air was stolen from his lungs and his ears stopped working and it was terribly, terribly cold-

He abruptly realized he was staring at the Earth. The Earth he lived on, that everything lived on, and where he just was seconds before, he was seeing it in full with his own two eyes. 

Henry was terrified. 

He didn't have much time to be, though. Everything was rushing past him through the portal, metal and rock flew past him, slicing at his skin. At some point, he'd let go of the gun, but his grip on the metal cord held fast. 

Joey was rushing at him. Just the small version, the round core Joey, the one he'd carried with him for a lot of his time in the facility, his friend, he was rushing toward the portal fast, and looked terrified, and-

His metal body bounced off of Henry painfully. All of the cords connecting him to the facility came undone in one go, and Joey was flying free. Henry realized as time slowed that he had a choice.

He swore to himself it would be the right one. His bandaged hand latched around the metal bar next to Joey's robotic eye. The core shook and the internal lights blinked at him in disbelief. "Let me go!" He cried, muffled by the change in pressure.

Henry shook his head. The action made his mind swim, but he pushed past it.

"You have to let me go! You won't survive! I've hurt you enough!" Joey's plates rattled. "Please Henry, don't let me kill my only friend!"

Henry watched as tiny droplets flew past the core and froze in the permanent night of space, and would never register that those were his tears. He shook his head again, his hold on the cord beginning to slip further. 

"Henry, please!" Joey practically sobbed. "Let go!"

The moment he said that, something clamped down on Henry's arm. His grip on the cord disappeared, though he realized he hadn't gone flying into the reaches of space. In fact, he was being pulled. Pulled back into the facility. Warmth suddenly surrounded him, and he forced himself to take a breath. His lungs ached, burned even, and so did his eyes. The air around them stilled and he could hear so many things hit the ground at once. He felt solid ground beneath him, and only then did he release Joey. 

The world around him, sideways, faded, even as Eugene rushed to his side.

Henry regained consciousness to the sound of a quiet conversation above him. Eugene's voice, and Joey’s. Something soft was under his head, and something hard but warm pressed into his stomach. He pried his eyes open, breathing deeply. He squinted in the bright light that now covered the room, picking up on soft bird songs far above them.

"Oh thank goodness you're alright…" Susie chimed, amplified. She had control again, it seemed.

Eugene's hand landed on Henry's shoulder as he cautiously sat up. His head had been in the scientist's lap, which he was thankful for. "Oh good…" Eugene murmured. 

Far behind Eugene was a face Henry didn't know. It wasn't human, clearly, though it was human enough. The pained and relieved expression told him that much. 

Eugene followed his gaze. "Joey… had a body. Long time ago. It was still here." He explained. "His legs don't work good yet." 

Henry barely registered the comment. He was already scrambling on unsteady knees for the android, who braced himself for something. 

He shook hard once when Henry's arms wrapped around him, pulling him in close to his chest. A hand went to his surprisingly soft synthetic hair, face burying into the mechanical man's neck.

Joey lightly patted his back, trying to put his words together. "Henry…?"

The smaller man only held him tighter. _ We both made it. _

There were some long, long moments before Susie’s voice broke through the silence. “I do hate to rain on this little parade…” She began sarcastically. “But you did wreck my facility. And I want you gone. Now.”

Henry pulled back from Joey and nodded, climbing to his feet. If it weren’t for the braces in his knees, he was sure he would’ve fallen back down. He looked to Eugene, who was working on deactivating Joey’s core body. That’s what was keeping him warm, Henry gathered. 

“Uh… hate to break it to you, mate… But I can’t move.” Joey softly voiced from the floor. Henry looked back at him.

“Oh for the love of…” Susie started. “You. Drew. Do something about it.” It was more of a request than a demand, really. 

Eugene came to stand next to them, hands on his hips for a moment. “Think you could carry him?” He asked Henry.

After a moment’s consideration, Henry nodded. He didn’t really have a choice, all things considered. 

“Alright, I’ll put him on your back, then we go.” Eugene offered, already reaching to lift Joey up.

“No, no, no, I’m too-” Joey was protesting, but he was already in the air. His arms wrapped around Henry quickly enough, Henry’s hands going to his legs to put them around his hips. 

Henry braced himself against the weight, hearing Eugene fiddling with something.

“I’ll lock his legs like this so you don’t have to hold them, that good?” Eugene voiced, though Henry could already feel the android’s legs go rigid against him. 

He nodded again, shifting. Eugene, after securing Joey, went to retrieve his coat, then his robot, which he secured on his own back. It looks a little more damaged than before, but not horribly so. 

“Well, now that _ that’s _sorted…” Susie began again, raising a lift from the floor. Dirt fell away from it as it rose. “Off you all go.” 

While they all piled in together, Henry was sure she would be shooing them if she had hands. The door slid closed and the lift shuddered as it began to move. Joey’s grip tightened briefly.

“And please… Don’t come back. Ever.” She added angrily as the lift neared the ceiling. She was out of view before any of them could agree. 


End file.
